


Number 47 said to Number 3

by austsami



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austsami/pseuds/austsami
Summary: "Alright, who owns spitfire?""That would be me," Mikkel said. Eirik just rolled his eyes.Mikkel springs his boyfriend fromjailholding.
Relationships: Denmark/Norway (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Number 47 said to Number 3

**Author's Note:**

> APH Denmark : Mikkel Sørensen  
> APH Norway : Eirik Nilsen
> 
> APH Switzerland: Basch Zwingli  
> APH Prussia: Gilbert Beilschmidt

"Hey Gilbert, long time no see," Mikkel said by way of greeting. He let the doors to the police station fall back behind him. It was pretty early in the morning, early enough that it was still dark out.

"Hey Mikkel," Gilbert said. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, leaning back while spinning a pen between two fingers. "Feels like it's been a year."

"I know," Mikkel pouted, ever over-dramatic. He put his hands on the desk, hunching over it. "Seeing you once a week ain't enough. But then again, now that you're a big city cop I'm surprised you can make any time at all to talk to little ole me." He batted his eyes for extra effect.

Gilbert stifled a laugh. "Oh well, ya know how it is. But don't worry, I caught you a little present."

"Caught?" Mikkel said, unable to contain his grin. He could see Eirik in the corner of his eye throwing his head back in exasperation.

"Brought. I meant brought," Gilbert grinned, continuing to play along and appease Mikkel.

From the corner of his eye Mikkel could see Eirik staring at him, gripping the edge of the bench he sat on. "Mikkel Sørensen for the love of god if you don't--"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Mikkel said, cutting Eirik off. He languidly spun around to look at Eirik as if he just noticed him, as if he just met him. Behind and off to the left of the front desk where Gilbert sat was a holding cell. Eirik was sitting on the bench in it and looking like he'd been plucked from some KISS concert.

"Damn, you got a boyfriend, good-lookin'? Because you're the cutest jailbird I ever did see," Mikkel said. He walked up right up to the holding cell and winked.

Eirik got up from the bench and walked over to Mikkel. Mikkel looked him up and down and gave him a salacious grin. Eirik was still in the clothes he went out in though he had lost the definition of his eyeliner; half was wiped off and the other half was smudged. Back in high school Eirik's boyfriend--Robert? Rhodes? Mikkel can never remember--suddenly decided that rebelling against his parents meant playing Arch Enemy's entire discography instead of Mahler's compositions. And so, that was Eirik's first introduction to heavy metal. And it stuck with him long after the breakup. Even Eirik's childhood friend, Timo, got into it.

Even to this day the pair of them, Eirik and Timo, go to a metal head concert every year, usually in the summer like today. But unlike every other time they'd gone out, this time they had decided to stop for drinks afterwards. _And apparently_ , Gilbert had said, _Eirik waited with Timo until his Uber arrived. And when Timo had left and Eirik was waiting for his tab he had seen some guy slip somethin' into some girl's drink. And well..._ Gilbert had trailed off. Mikkel didn't need him to go on, he got the gist.

Eirik gave Mikkel a deadpan stare. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "I do, actually, but he's about to find himself very, _very_ single in a moment."

Mikkel pouted. He leaned forward, grasping the metal bars of the holding cell. "Aw, you're no fun."

Eirik sighed. He uncrossed his arms and walked towards Mikkel. He put his own hands on top of Mikkel's.

"Can't ya just get me outta here?"

Mikkel stepped back and let go of the bars. He held out one hand in a _stay right there_ motion while the other reached into his back pocket. "Lemme just get one picture--"

Eirik threw his head back and closed his eyes. "Oh, for the love of--"

He was interrupted when a short cop with a clipboard and a nameplate that read _B. Zwingli_ walked in.

"Alright, who owns spitfire?" Officer Zwingli asked, gesturing toward Eirik with his pen.

"That would be me," Mikkel said, rocking back on his heels and grinning far too brightly for someone in a police station. Officer Zwingli stared at him, unimpressed. Eirik just rolled his eyes.

"Okay," Officer Zwingli drawled. He walked over to the front desk. He stared hard at Gilbert while Gilbert merely smiled up at him. With a flick of his hand, Gilbert stood up out of the chair and stepped away. He bowed, presenting the chair like he was a servant and Officer Zwingli was a king.

"My liege," Gilbert said. Officer Zwingli sat down, unfazed.

Mikkel smiled. He hadn't known Basch Zwingli in high school, like Eirik, or in college, like Gilbert had. And from all the stories both had told him, Mikkel wasn't surprised the guy had become a cop. Strait-laced and serious, but objective, were always Basch's most redeemable qualities, Eirik had always said despite telling Mikkel that the guy has held a small grudge towards Eirik since high school ( _not that serious_ , Eirik had assured him, _more like a reflex at this point_ ). But still, Mikkel couldn't blame the guy: all those years of being collateral damage in Gilbert and his friends' pranks must've got to him. Mikkel often joked that Basch had probably become a cop just to put Gilbert behind bars once in for all.

The joke was on him though. While no one was surprised that Basch became a cop, it was a shock to everyone when Gilbert did the same. And he was glad that it was Gilbert who had been the one to call Mikkel about Eirik and not Officer Zwingli.

_"Don't worry he's not hurt and he's not bein' charged with anything," Gilbert had said. "Officer Zwingli may have a stick up his ass but he's fair. It was obvious the other guy was slippin' shit. And even if not there were witnesses to back Eirik up. Basch didn't want him walking back home on his own or dealing with some sorta inquiry so he's here with us, making Zwingli's forehead vein pop out. Please put me outta my misery and pick him up."_

Mikkel took one last look at his boyfriend. Eirik gave him a small, sheepish smile. Mikkel gave him a wink and then walked back to the front desk.

"Alright," Officer Zwingli said once he got comfortable and Mikkel was in front of him. He shuffled some papers around, signing off on a few before holding the clipboard he walked in with towards Mikkel. "You just need to sign these and Mr. Nilsen is free to go."

"No no no, wait," Mikkel said. "I wanna savor this a bit."

Eirik threw back his head and groaned. "Sign the damn form, Mick."

"I will, I will. But c'mon baby, you hafta admit that this is, like, biblical in its irony," Mikkel said. It was always assumed, and joked about by Eirik himself, that he would be the one picking Mikkel up from some police station.

"Oh, you want biblical? I'll show you biblical--"

"Hey!" Officer Zwingli barked. He swiveled back around to point his pen at Eirik. "Any more lip outta you and I'll keep you here for the rest of the night."

"How can you keep me "for the rest of the night" when it's three in the morning?" Eirik pointed out, sighing. Mikkel stifled a laugh when Officer Zwingli's eyes raised up to his eyebrows. Officer Zwingli opened his mouth to respond but promptly shut it when Gilbert threw an arm around his shoulders and whined in his ear.

"Ah, c'mon Basch. Don't be like that," Gilbert said good-naturedly. "Where's your sense of humor?"

Officer Zwingli shrugged Gilbert's arm off of him. His face was still hard-set but it seemed like he wouldn't follow through on his threat. "He needs to learn some respect," he grumbled. "Didn't have it back in high school and doesn't have it now." Gilbert rolled his eyes and stood up straight.

And of course, because he can never _not_ have the last say and loves to make things difficult, Eirik chimed in, smirk on his face and a cool, even tone to his voice, with: "I don't remember you giving this much shit to Mr. Would-Be-Rapist before he was carted off to the hospital."

Officer Zwingli looked like he was about to blow his top. Gilbert put a hand over his eyes. Mikkel's hand stilled as he began to write his last signature. He sighed, looking over at Eirik and raised his eyebrow. _Really?_ His face said. Eirik answered him with a small, somewhat mischievous smile that belied the cold anger he had felt--and _still_ feels--about the fight that landed him here in the first place. Eirik was still holding onto the bars of the holding cell, his red and torn knuckles speaking for him.

"I also didn't have to sit with Mr. Would-Be-Rapist for the last hour," he said, voice hard. Eirik rolled his eyes. Officer Zwingli continued, "And _he_ will be processed and dealt with through due process of the law--"

Eirik couldn't help but choke on a humorless laugh, effectively cutting Zwingli's lecture off. He may have deliberately provoked Zwingli earlier but Mikkel knew this was just a raw reaction. Officer Zwingli _is_ a good cop, Mikkel mused, if a bit unyielding. And he always believed in impartiality and the law. But, Mikkel thought as he watched the cop turn redder in anger, even Zwingli isn't that ignorant... he definitely knows what Eirik's scoff meant, where that frustration came from. And it probably kills him that his childhood dreams of being a cop and working with fair, honest people and a sound justice system were dashed once he walked finally made it.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and stepped in front of Officer Zwingli, cutting his view of Eirik off. "Alright, alright that's enough," Gilbert commanded. "Eirik? Stop instigating. And Basch? Stop getting your panties in a twist. C'mon, like he said, it's three in the morning. None of us are awake enough to deal with the other."

Officer Zwingli huffed but complied. He swiveled his chair back around to face the front of the desk. He reached out for the clipboard and Mikkel gave it to him. He read through it, making sure everything was all settled correctly. Once he was satisfied he waved his hand, gesturing to Gilbert to let Eirik go.

Eirik stepped out and Gilbert clapped him on the shoulder. Smiling, Mikkel opened his arms and took a few steps. Eirik walked up to him and let Mikkel hug him tightly, lifting him off the ground a little. Mikkel placed a few kisses on Eirik's head, causing his boyfriend to blush deeply.

"Let's go home," Mikkel said quietly. Eirik nodded and the two made to make their leave. Mikkel had one hand on the door and one hand gingerly holding Eirik's wrist when Eirik stopped.

"Wait," Eirik said to nobody, turning around. "The girl, is she okay?"

"Yes, Officer Beilschmidt took her and her friend to St. Peters," Officer Zwingli reported mechanically.

"Will she press charges, ya think?"

"That's up to her."

"What happens if she doesn't?"

Officer Zwingli looked up from writing, staring impassively. His unspoken message was clear.

Eirik sighed. He hadn't gotten to speak to the girl before she was taken to the hospital, but he hoped she had the wherewithal to go through with pressing charges. Or, at least, that she had a friend to persuade her to do so. Though he would understand why she wouldn't. Eirik ducked his head down, slightly nodding in thanks but not giving Basch the satisfaction of actually _hearing_ it, and let Mikkel guide him out of the station.

Suddenly Gilbert called out.

"Now y'all come on back now, ya hear?" He said in a dramatic, thick, Southern accent. Mikkel and Eirik didn't even fully turn back around to respond before they heard Gilbert yelp in pain. Chuckling to themselves, they shook their heads. They waved back, not particularly caring if Gilbert could see them or not, and began walking down the street to their apartment.

"You are so fucking lucky it was them two on duty tonight. Gil told me you were riling Zwingli up..."

"I know, I know," Eirik conceded. "And c'mon I wouldn't've acted like if it had it been anyone else. He's just so easy to rile up, it's funny."

Mikkel chuckled. "You're crazy."

"You love it."

"Yeah, I do," Mikkel threw his arm over Eirik's shoulder as they walked. "But I think that was enough excitement for one night, don'tcha think?"

Eirik hummed. Mikkel pulled him closer to his side. "C'mon jailbird, let's go home."

Now _that_ Eirik did respond to. "I wasn't even arrested-!" He groaned but when he spoke his tone was light and had a hint of a laugh in it. "You didn't even have to post bail! Zwingli's just an ass. He hasn't changed since high school."

"Hmm," Mikkel hummed. "He just wanted to sober you up." Like Gilbert, Eirik knows Basch, at least more than Mikkel. Eirik claims he's still bitter about getting pushed out for concertmaster as a senior when Eirik was just a freshman. Mikkel's not so sure about that but either way the guy's held a bit of a grudge since then.

"More like finally get a chance to lock me up, the bastard," Eirik rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around Mikkel's waist. "And I wasn't even drunk, not really."

"Nothing you say will negate the fact that you were in a cop car earlier today," Mikkel chuckled. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. "Y'know, I think there's a pattern here."

Eirik turned, face scrunched in confusion.

"You know... jailbird... jailbait..." Mikkel grinned. His smile grew even larger when he saw the recognition dawn in Eirik's eyes.

Eirik rolled his eyes fondly. "I date _one_ older guy in high school and no one will just let it go--"

"You were a freshman!"

"And Roderich was only a senior!" Eirik argued, exasperated. "It's not like he was 30 and driving a Porsche!"

Mikkel gave him a hard look.

Eirik held up his free hand. "Okay, okay. It was a BMW," he conceded.

Eirik sounded exasperated but his smile, however, told a different story. Mikkel wheedled and whined about it for a bit, making jokes and tugging more smiles out of Eirik, before both of their laughter trailed off into a comfortable silence. Mikkel looked down the street. The first dredges of the morning were beginning to appear. It was still dark but the sky wasn't such a dark ink anymore. Some hues of blue were beginning to show over the horizon. He and Eirik were almost home now. His arm was still slung over Eirik and he used his thumb to gently caress Eirik's shoulder.

"I know I was jokin' before but I'm glad you're okay," he said. Eirik turned to look at him, but he kept his gaze ahead before directing it at the concrete before them. "I'm glad Gil called me, and phrased it the way he did, so I didn't have much time to worry or think about all the possible scenarios but... " Mikkel trailed off, the heaviness of his words punching through the air despite the silence of the street and the low timber of his voice. "I'm just... so fucking glad you're okay."

Eirik's gaze softened. He leaned more into Mikkel's side, tightening his own grip on Mikkel's waist. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to make you worry. I'm _really_ sorry."

Mikkel let out a breath. He tugged Eirik tighter and leaned his cheek on the side of his head. "I know, I know. And I'm not mad or upset, I would've done the same thing. Can't fault you for that, and I wouldn't want to. And the first thing Gil reassured me was that you were both safe and unharmed, but I still couldn't help that moment of terror when I got the call, y'know? It's what scared me. Even now just the thought..."

"I know, I know," Eirik rushed to reassure, guilt settling in his stomach. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Mikkel said, pulling away to look Eirik in the eyes. "But maybe next time, wait 'til I'm with you?" He ended his question with a shaky smile.

Eirik smiled back. "Well, let's hope there isn't a next time. But, yeah."

Mikkel kissed Eirik on the side of the temple and stayed there, nuzzling Eirik. They'd long since stopped walking. Eirik ducked out from under Mikkel's arm and stepped away only to step forward and hug him tightly. Mikkel wrapped his arms around Eirik and held just as tightly back. Eirik dropped his head to tuck it against Mikkel's neck.

After a few moments of them embracing on the sidewalk, Eirik mumbled against the fabric of Mikkel's shirt: "Can we go home now? I'm exhausted and my knuckles are killin' me."

"Yeah. As much as I love the fact that I finally got to quote Elvis _and_ never let you live this down, I'd much rather us go home," Mikkel said. He breathed out a laugh. "Let's get you cleaned up and inside where I can keep ya outta trouble."

Eirik rolled his eyes, playfully hitting Mikkel on the shoulder. He pulled away from Mikkel and grabbed his wrist, leading him on home.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Jailhouse Rock" by Elvis Presley.
> 
> And the guy APH Norway "briefly dated" in high school that APH Denmark was referring to but couldn't remember the name of was APH Austria. (APH Switzerland definitely holds a candle for APH Austria (˘³˘) And it's also part of the reason he doesn't like APH Prussia... lol)


End file.
